Page 62 of The Mismatch

London, 2014

Soraya moved from behind the counter, a position she’d been in for fifteen minutes.

She had begun working full-time at a high-end clothes shop. It had all happened quickly; she was invited to interview at twenty-four hours’ notice, and then told she got the job on the spot. She began work the following day. Whilst it wasn’t her first choice of occupation, she knew anything was better than unemployment.

She struggled with her thin heels as she plucked them from the lush carpet and picked her way over towards the customer. Heels were compulsory for all staff. The French-inspired décor attempted to be glamorous; the furniture was light pink and the spiral staircase leading upstairs to the personal shopping area rose gold. On each clothes rail were no more than five items of clothing, all equally spaced and arranged in size order.

The customer, a sour-faced woman dressed all in white, ignored her greeting. Only to be expected.

Despite this, Soraya drew in closer, her manager Guy’s eyes on her from the other end of the shop, keen to find something to criticise her for. To blame her for a missed saleif she didn’t say the exact words she’d rehearsed from the company manual.

The woman was looking at the rail of clothes, grabbing items and fingering them before discarding them.

‘Good afternoon. How are you today?’ Soraya said, a smile plastered on her face; she could feel her cheeks twitching ever so slightly and dug her nails into her palm.

‘Fine, I don’t need help,’ the woman said, bypassing a conversation she didn’t want to have. What she didn’t seem to notice was that it wasn’t a conversation Soraya wanted to have either. It was in these moments that she felt despair. She thought about Oliver who had managed to get a paid year-long publishing internship whilst she was still stuck working in retail, still being rejected by graduate employers – and customers – daily. She tried not to feel jealous.

‘OK, well, give me a shout if you do!’ Soraya turned on her heel and moved back to the counter.

Guy edged towards her, his brow furrowed. His turtleneck jumper and plaid suit combo gave him an annoying air before he even opened his mouth. The high neck looked like it was choking him, but his pink nose gave him a misleading look of childlike innocence.

‘Well,shedidn’t want to talk,’ he said in his Essex accent, holding back a smile. His hands were thrust deep into his trouser pockets and he rocked on his heels.

‘I know,’ Soraya said, holding back a laugh.

‘She’s looking at that coat. Why don’t you ask her if she wants to try it on?’

Guy often put her in uncomfortable situations where she must bear the brunt of a customer’s aggression. She was about to make another wobbly descent when a colleague came down the stairs to take over.

‘Oh! It’s three already …’ Soraya said.

‘Ah, right, I suppose you can go home now.’

At this she bolted, went into the staffroom, promptly removed her heels and rubbed the soles of her feet, which were pink and sore. She slipped on trainer socks and pulled on her cut-off Doc Martens.

Soraya noticed Magnus waiting outside to meet her. For a minute he didn’t see her. She used this opportunity to look at him freely for once. He was leaning against the concrete wall by the shop, one leg propped casually against the wall, the other stretched out in front of him. He had a book in his hand, his head bent in concentration.

As she stood staring at him, passers-by muttered when they had to walk around her, obscuring him from her view. It was only when she was pushed, accidentally or otherwise – this was London – that she went over to him.

‘Whatcha reading?’ she said, close to his ear.

He started, ever so slightly, and then grinned, lifting up the cover so she could see.1984.

‘Interesting,’ Soraya said, pursing her lips.

‘I’m sorry it’s not one of the excellent works of literature you read,’ he joked, before she swatted him. He shoved the paperback in his coat pocket. ‘How was work?’

‘Same old, same old …’

‘It’s not forever.’ He began stroking her palm, caressing the sensitive area. All of London, the hustle and bustle of it, faded away when she was with him. Or rather, she became part of the crowd, excited to be there, for a change. Until recently she had felt tired of the city.

Something fluttered deep within her and she forced it back down. She was making things harder for herself. There was an expiry date on whatever their relationship was, and it was fast approaching. She could feel it.

‘I know.’ She yanked his hand slightly so they could begin walking.

‘I have some news …’

‘Really, what?’ They were heading towards Oxford Circus, Magnus leading the way, when he turned right into a side street.